


The Heart Goes Last

by pan_dora



Series: Justifiable [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha!Stiles, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Post Justifiable, Post Season 5B, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steo, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatural Elements, canon divergence - post season 5b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: CONTINUATION OF JUSTIFIABLEA colleague of his father called Stiles in desperate need of help. Men in his town are being drowned in their bathtub in the safety of their home - and to make matter worse, their hearts are ripped out and put on display. It's not exactly the first case Stiles has wished for but they have to start somewhere.Along with the case, Stiles has to find his footing as the alpha of a pack that doesn't exist in this formation for long but does already have a considerable history, two moping teenagers, and Theo.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of Justifiable. You don't need to have read it in order to read this one. But there will be references to what happened in that Fic. IF you are interested to read it, you can do that here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8740906/chapters/20039683

_"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged." - Heinrich Heine_

 

“I will not force anybody to work a case,” Stiles walked up and down in front of the window, hands firmly clasped behind his back, “You can always and at any time drop out. I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I’d rather you tell me before you torment yourselves.” He didn’t need a mentally scarred pack. It’s enough if there’s one member that needed to go to therapy a couple time a week while the rest should probably consider going to a meeting for anonymous nutjobs. “Also, I reserve myself the right to tell you when I think you need to stay away from a case based on what I know about you.” Of course, he would not force them to stay home although he could. Potentially. Possibly. Unless it’s Liam and Mason. He would not take the two of them along, except at times where they didn’t have school and their parents were cool with it; which, let’s be real, wouldn't be happening until they were eighteen years old.

Lydia sat on a chair at the table. She knew the casefile inside out, just like Stiles. Although she had told him that he'd only waste his breath, they had both agreed that they should address the yellow elephant in the room. “Theo,” Stiles said after a short pause turning his attention to the chimera sitting with his back to the broken wall, “I recommend you shou-.”

“No,” Theo interrupted him. “I’m coming.”

“Based on the MO I’d feel better if you stay home.” Stiles had to at least try to convince him, even though the chance to convince him was subliminal.

Theo crossed his arms defiantly. “And I feel better when I’m with you.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Liam piped up still majorly disgruntled that he had to stay behind in Beacon Hills. Mason didn’t like it either, but he settled the argument as Stiles had told them they would certainly need their help. His best friend wasn’t pleased as easily. Which Stiles understood, he really did. But he wasn’t going to ask their parents to take them out of school to hunt a rouge _something_. Mr. Dunbar would rip him a new one if he were to even think about suggesting it.

Brett rolled an apple in the palm of his hand sitting beside Isaac on the kitchen counter.

They needed furniture. But to get furniture, they needed Theo’s car and time to drive to Palo Alto.

“What's the MO?” Funnily enough, Brett had integrated himself quite nicely in their tightly woven circle of friends within two hours – despite the rocky start he’d had with both Liam and Theo as well as Corey, who’d made sure to demonstrate just how crazy Mason and he were about each other. But Brett had made abundantly clear that he’s neither interested in a relationship nor in pinching anybody's partner – and he especially didn’t want to start any kind of pack rivalry.

“First the victims are drowned, then their heart is ripped out through their chest,” Lydia replied while Stiles was keeping an eye on Theo, who was controlling his expression almost perfectly. But the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes widened just a little bit was more than telling. The room got silent as everyone waited for a reaction. Even Brett and Corey seemed to have understood that something was going on.

“Well,” Theo began eventually forcing his voice to stay even which made it all the more obvious that he tried to hide his true feelings about this particular revelation, “that sucks.”

Lydia and Stiles glanced at each other.

“That’s settled,” Isaac noted turning back to Stiles and Lydia. “Why do we think it’s supernatural anyway?”

“You haven’t ripped out that many hearts in your spare time, have you?” Brett asked continuing to roll the apple in the palm of his hand barely taking his eyes off it. He seemed hardly bothered by the topic. Well, he had grown up a werewolf. Blood and gore were probably something he had cut his teeth on.

Stiles massaged his temple. “He’s right. You’d need a lot of strength to get through bones and muscles to reach the heart, unless they’re already weakened or not completely developed. For a normal human, that’s almost impossible. You’d most likely dislocate your knuckles.” Stiles flipped one of the files open again, frowning down on the details. He wondered when he stopped being bothered by pictures of brutally opened chests. He also wondered if he’d ever see more blood and gore than he could handle. “You'll certainly cut your skin on the broken bones. But no trace of DNA at all has been found inside the victims.” Which was odd, even for a werewolf doing it. Then again, Tracy's skin had been impossible to cut. But Tracy had been a chimera and a normal kanima would leave its venom everywhere.

Brett lowered the apple, squinting at Stiles. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or disturbed.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Kira mumbled sliding her index finger around the rim of her tea mug.

Mason nodded. “And learn to pay attention to the important parts of his ramblings.”

“Such as?”

Lydia clicked her tongue. “The missing DNA,” she said tapping her perfectly manicured nail against one of the pictures in a slow rhythm. It’s very telling that neither of them was particularly bothered by what they’d seen and read in those files. Probably because they had already witnessed a whole lot of fucked up shit. Again, werewolf shenanigans. They didn’t really have a choice but to get used to it. Either that or hide under the bed and never crawl out again ever. Being afraid of the dark wasn’t an option anymore.

Stiles frowned down at what was right in front of him. There were things missing. But there were also things written between the lines he couldn’t ignore. Plain reasons. _Human_ reasons. Of course, he shouldn’t forget that most of the supernatural world was either partially human or had been human once. It’s not entirely unreasonable to spot those characteristics. Theo, for example, as a chimera had only grown closer to his wolf and coyote _after_ he had been with a pack for a while. Before that, his actions and emotions had been human – and those had been strong. Shooting Malia? A coyote didn’t usually attack a fellow member of the same species without it being an urgent necessity. But Theo had done it for his own benefit. Now he’s throwing himself in front of powerful nogitsunes to save a pack member, which was usually a natural enemy to the wolf. So, yes, he had to watch out for everything, even if it did look like it’s a mediocre detail. It might be the one crucial hint to solve the case.

“What is it?” Isaac asked.

Stiles looked up in confusion, it took a second to place him in the loft. “Huh?”

The dismissive gesture Theo made was catching his eye. “You’re quiet which means you’re either pissed at someone or you know something.” His heart did a weird thing at being known this well. It’s not really a flutter but it wasn’t skipping a beat either. He knew it was something Lydia would’ve said; and there’s something calming and terrifying about the fact that Theo had mentioned it. It felt good to know he was paying attention to every minute detail. But it’s somewhat scary being known inside out. Maybe because Stiles wasn’t quite there yet, maybe because Stiles still needed some time to figure him out properly. It’s not always first glance like when he looked at Lydia. It’s taking another glance, a little bit of time.

Stiles licked his lips. “It’s just-“ He ruffled his hair. “I think it’s a woman.”

Kira peeked up from her mug. “A woman?”

“Why do you think it’s a woman?” Mason didn’t sound any less surprised.

Stiles wasn’t quite sure if the surprise came from the fact that he suspects the murderer being a woman or that he’s already able to make a valid guess on the gender. But to him, it’s more than obvious. There were always exceptions of the rule, of course. Still, for now, Stiles went with everything he knew, everything he’d read. “Statistics,” he replied eventually noticing how the pack glanced at each other in mild confusion.

Liam was the one who broke the silence. “Would you enlighten us ignorants?”

Stiles put his hands on the table, pressing the tips of his finger against it until his knuckles turned white. “Female serial killers usually kill in a secluded location.” Sometimes he forgets that people didn’t know the things he knew; not because they were less smart but because his areas of interest were all over the place. He had done research of the weirdest stuff, if he thought about it. “Their methods are most of the time very low-profile; hence the drowning in a bathtub at night with nobody else home. Also, women who take lives do it in a way that is clean. Not a drop of blood could be found although I guess ripping out someone’s heart out is a messy business.” He hadn’t really studied a lot of cases with this particular MO. Most likely because ripping the heart out of somebody’s chest wasn’t the go-to reaction after killing someone.

Corey snorted. “No shit.”

“You’re clean, too. You’re nit-picky even,” Kira pointed out. Stiles gave her a look. Although it might be true that he’s a little tidier than most guys his age, someone had to keep an eye on the loft. Liam and Mason had moved out, but Theo and Isaac were chaotic enough for six. And five teenagers living in a loft made for two people – even though the rooms were huge – could become very messy. Additionally, Stiles had been in charge of the household since his mother’s death. It’s characteristics you couldn’t really get rid of.   

Stiles didn’t even look up from the files in front of him. “Yeah, but if I wanted to kill you I would want it to be efficient. I wouldn’t give a shit whether you were bleeding profusely all over the floor.” That’s true as well. The whole point of killing someone was for them to be dead. It’s not his problem who had to clean up the mess – also, he would never kill someone in his own home. How stupid would that be? This killer’s method was brutal, messy and efficient and yet the bathroom had been as clean as it could be with a drowned guy in a bathtub, whose heart had sat on the white porcelain rim.

Brett pointed at Stiles. “Does nobody else find that disturbing?” Although incredibly unhappy, Corey raised his hand. “Thank you.” Brett stopped, for the first time really, rolling the apple in the palm of his hand.

Lydia sighs. “Stiles is right. Also, ripping out someone’s heart seems personal.”

“You don’t say,” Theo deadpanned.

Corey looked from Stiles to Theo and to Mason, then back to Stiles. It’s the first time he’d been with them during a real pack meeting. He’s hesitant, which wasn’t that surprising. Although being part of Scott’s pack, he’d never really been _part of the pack_. It was more like he had been an extension to the pack. But at this point, he seemed to be far too weirded out to keep his mouth shut. “Are these normal everyday conversation you guys have?”

Mason, who seemed to have fitted himself seamlessly into the pack, pat his boyfriend’s neck. “Depends on the constellation of the stars in relation to something else.”

“On Fridays, we talk about strangulation,” Liam added nodding with a very serious expression.

Isaac waved his hand around. “And on Sundays, we're meeting the children of the damned.”

Stiles rapped his nails against the wooden table. “Theo’s the cult leader.”

Theo threw the empty shell of a peanut in his direction. But even with his supernatural strength, it fell to the ground halfway. “Ha. Ha,” he muttered obviously unhappy about the jab of his stay underground, “can we get back on topic?”

Stiles ran his finger through his hair. It stuck out in every direction after being treated this way for the last couple hours. He didn’t want to check in a mirror how terrible and tired he had to look right now. “We need to find out what all those guys had in common; it’s not age, appearance, race or sexuality.” The only thing they had in common was their gender and that’s that. They had Hispanics, Caucasian, the last victim had been gay or bisexual – Stiles didn’t know anything about his former lovers – they had been from 21 to 59 years old. Black hair, blonde hair, red hair. Tall, big, small, fit, comfortable. They had been college students and editors, lawyers and bank assistants. Honestly, he’d given up finding a connection based on such superficial things hours ago. “I doubt she’s picking them willy-nilly. Serial killers have a type.”

Liam stole one of Theo’s peanuts, ignoring the glare he got in return. Stiles had learned that the chimera wasn’t exactly fond of people stealing his food. “Are there something like supernatural serial killers?” Liam asked cracking open the shell.  

Lydia raised a brow. “You have met Peter Hale?”

“He’s not a serial killer,” Stiles muttered shaking his head. “He’s a disempathetic sociopath – if that's even possible for a wolf.” With Peter, it’s even more different since he’s a born werewolf. He had never been _just_ human.

Corey stared at him. “A what?”

“A sociopath that can feel an emotional connection to a certain group of people, mostly friends or family,” Lydia replied instead of him. Thank god, she had actually remembered what he’d needed to learn during his first midterms. That meant at least one person knew what he’s talking about.

“Like Theo?” There was a heartbeat of silence, then Kira pulled her shoulders up as Theo sent an affronted look in her direction.

Stiles decided not to point out that he didn’t really have the right to be piqued by this comment – not after all the shit he’d pulled. Also, he only ever acted like a normal human being around the pack and even then, he’s barely on his best behaviour. But he cared, or at least he tried to. He hadn’t even antagonised Brett once, which was very impressive. “His empathy and moral compass are majorly skewed, yes,” he replied eventually, “and he’s a compulsive liar. But he’s not a sociopath.”

Theo threw a peanut at him this time. It hit Stiles’ upper arm. Surprisingly enough, it stung a bit. “Why do I date you?” He asked aiming another peanut at him – which he didn’t throw after locking eyes with him. “You sound like my psychiatrist.”

“Because of my sparkling personality,” Stiles replied raising a brow. He didn’t even feel the slightest bit sorry about sounding like Morrell. She was the one who’d told him to keep reminding Theo about his issues. She’d probably meant for him to do that in a gentler way, but Stiles wasn’t exactly the kindest person around. “What do we know about their families, friends-“

“Woah!” Mason called, “hold your horses. You’re dating now? Officially?”

Theo’s eyes were palpable on his skin. “Yes,” he stated then carefully, almost like he was expecting repercussion for telling. Well, it’s not like they’d spoken about keeping the fact that they were dating a secret. It’s well known anyway that there’s something going on between the two of them. It would be completely pointless to deny or hide it.

Stiles sent a tired but genuine smile in Theo’s direction. “We’re trying.”

Liam’s glance bounced from Stiles and Theo and back again like it’s a bloody super ball. It’s crazy. “How didn’t we notice that you two are dating?” The peanuts in his hands were already forgotten.

“Because we decided that, like, twelve hours ago,” Stiles remarked side-eying the clock above the kitchen counter. The fact that they even _had_ a clock over the kitchen counter made him feel very organised but also very old. Seriously, what teenager had a clock over their kitchen counter? They all had phones. Nobody actually needed a clock.

Theo raised to his feet. “Because Stiles isn’t particularly affectionate unless we’re alone or in great distress,” he answered stretching himself. Fascinating how fucking comfortable he was looking despite everything going on.

Stiles was still working through crippling anxiety every now and then, and the files on this table didn’t exactly help ease his overall state of mind. “Fuck you,” he said but there wasn't really any heat behind his words. “I’m very affectionate.”

Lydia raised a brow at him. “I can count on one hand the times I have seen you and Malia acting like a couple.”

“And most was initiated by her,” Kira added taking a sip from her mug. The tea had to be cold by how long she had been staring at it.

Stiles groaned. “There are dead people.” He pointed at the files in front of them. “Can we concentrate on that?” He didn’t really want to discuss how affectionate he acted or didn’t act during a relationship. Also, this thing with Theo was still new and he didn’t plan on being one of these obnoxious teenagers who only co-existed with their crush. It’s disgusting.

Lydia brushed a few strands of hair over her shoulder. “We’re not going to figure out any more from here, sweetheart.”

Isaac nodded and jumped off the kitchen counter. “When's our flight going?”

“Ten hours.” Stiles started putting the files together. Lydia’s right. They were not going to find any more information in these files – even though Stiles would like to. What bothered him most was that he didn’t even have a clue what the hell they were going up against. It could be literally anything – and fighting a supernatural creature they knew next to nothing about was like throwing yourself to the wolves. Something Stiles had usually survived but he really didn’t need to stress it.

Brett started rolling his apple again.  “Yeah, I’m going to pass on that case.”

“Because we’re flying?” Kira asked wrapping both of her hands around her mug. There was a soft smile curling around her lips. Again, Stiles wondered how all of them could be so comfortable. Was he the only one who was still freaking out about everything? It’s cool that the pack had accepted the fact that Theo and he were dating just like that and _still_ Stiles felt like he might be fucking up every step he took.

“Honey, I’m a wolf,” Brett reminded her with a quirked brow. “Wolves don’t get on airplanes.”

Stiles looked at him critically. “You’re afraid of flying?”

“Apprehensive.”

Theo crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Something flickered over his face Stiles wasn’t exactly a fan of. “Well, then you’re redundant here.”

Brett frowned. He looked less hurt than he does confused. He didn’t even seem angry. As it turned out, Stiles took this particular case away from him. “Theo.” A moment ago, he’d been so proud of Theo acting accordingly and now he’s tumbling back to his frustrating self. This was not what Stiles wanted to see – and it pissed him off to no end that he had to be the one to deal with it. Not just because he was the alpha but because he was the one who dated the idiot.

“What? It’s true,” Theo replied blinking at him, “I’m ju-“

Not in front of the pack, Stiles reminded himself, _not_ in front of people. He would not make a scene. He would discuss this someplace private. “Can we talk?” Stiles didn't wait for an answer. Instead he left the room and found his place on the balcony. It’s the most private part of this house they could have with werewolves mingling everywhere – especially since it turned out that he always owned a little bit of magic even when his void would be asleep. Just enough to secure their home and to keep the balcony a private place.

Breathing in deep, he faced Theo. “Stop antagonizing Brett.”

Theo curled his lips into a tight line. “He’s not pack.”

That didn’t make it okay for him to be a dick to people. But that, obviously, was news to him. “He is trying to help us.” Brett was a viable connection to Satomi's pack. They needed every help they could get. Not every werewolf pack they met would accept Stiles for what he was; a young, human alpha with a powerful dormant magic inside of him. He could be controlled by alphas. If there’s a loophole and someone could _force_ him- They needed every bit of help they could get.

Theo probably hadn't thought that far ahead. “He’s not helping if he-“

Stiles understood and accepted Theo’s troubles with being social and around other people. He understood them better than most people because Stiles wasn’t _that_ different himself. But if there’s one thing he hated more than anything, it’s jealousy. Especially if it’s unfounded. It had been complicated enough with Malia, he was pretty sure it’s worse with Theo. “Please. I know you don’t like Brett and I know you never will-“ He’s already so tired of this topic. He’d never cheat. For nothing, even when he’s more than unhappy in a relationship. “But I’m with you, okay? You can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“I turned him down for you, isn’t that what counts?” The second the words left his lips he knew they are the wrong ones to chose. But what’s done was done, and Stiles was aware that words could never be taken back once they had been said out loud.

Theo narrowed his eyes. “So, if you weren’t dating me, you’d go out with him?”

“That’s not what I said,” Stiles bit out, the anger dancing on the tip of his tongue. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“You just said-“

And the anger simply rolled over his tongue and squeezed through his clenched teeth. “That I want to be with you. That’s what I said. For fucks sake, Theo. We’re officially dating half a day and we’re already fighting because of your jealous tendencies.” It’s a glimpse in their future. A glimpse to what laid ahead if they made it that far. Because even for someone who hadn’t been totally destroyed by the Doctors Frankenstein, jealousy was hard to overcome. It’s going to be next to impossible for Theo. “I don’t want you to become best friends with Brett but please try and behave. He’s a good guy-“ Theo narrowed his eyes even further. Stiles ignored it- “and his pack can be a huge help when something goes South in Beacon Hills again.” He crossed his arms, straightened. Theo curled his lips into a tight line. Whether he wanted it or not, their relationship would always influence pack politics; especially with Theo being as broken as he was. “You promised, remember?”

Theo scrunched up his nose. “I promised I would try.”

“You didn’t even try,” Stiles remarked with a roll of his eyes.

“I did.”

“Then try harder,” Stiles yelled curling his hands into tight fists at his side – and he felt instantly horrible as Theo flashed his eyes and bowed his head. He’d promised himself not to play the alpha card on him when it was an issue related to their relationship. It wouldn’t be fair. They were supposed to be equals. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes and he turned away. This was exactly what he’d thought would happen. And yet he’d hoped it wouldn't. It seemed like an unsurpassable barrier. He had no idea how the fuck he’s supposed to manage the high wire act between separating being a boyfriend and being an alpha. But if he wanted it to work, it’s the only thing he could do – it’s the one thing he had to do.

Theo didn't touch him. But he didn’t move away either. “I’ll try harder.” His voice was low, barely audible – the sound of submission. Stiles bit his bottom lip hard to keep the sound inside that would betray the storm inside him.

“About the case-“ Stiles curled his fingers tightly around the railing holding onto it like he’s going to float away if he let go.

Theo’s whole demeanour changed. It’s palpable in the atmosphere. “I'm going with you.”

Stiles felt as if someone punched him and every last bit of air was cast out of his lungs. “I’m just worried about you,” he breathed, dread clawing on his insides. “You’re still having nightmares and I don’t think that case will help to overcome them.” He tried to tiptoe his way back onto the right path, the one a boyfriend would choose – the one that displayed worry for an equal rather than a beta.

But Theo made it impossible. “I’m not staying out of it.”

The anger came back without warning. _Why_ was he making it so hard on Stiles? “I’m trying to protect you here.”

“Well, I don’t need your protection.”

“Sorry, my void is currently out of order. I don’t want to crush your tender ego by telling you that I’m fucking worried about you while I’m human!” His shoulders went rigid with the way he tightened his hold on the railing. He wanted to break something _so bad_. But he wouldn't. He had things like that under control. “Guess, I’m only allowed to do that when I’m powerful enough to accidentally kill you with a single touch. I try to keep that in mind.”

Silence followed these words. A silence that lasted long enough Stiles believed Theo had left. But he would’ve heard the door – and he wouldn’t feel his presence at his very back. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what he wanted Theo to do, though. Some part of him wanted him to go and leave him the fuck alone so that he could suffer through his ugly anger alone. He also didn’t want him to go. Their relationship would be far from peachy perfect. Their relationship would have the nastiest of moments. Maybe it’s better if they learned how to deal with it from the very beginning.

“I can’t protect you when I’m here.”

“And I can’t protect you when you’re coming with us.”

Theo wrapped his arms around his waist. “How do we fix this?”

There’s the possibility to lie. There’s also the possibility, to tell the truth. Stiles chose the latter option. “I don’t know.”

 

“Nuestros pensamientos están con ousted y con su familia en estos momentos tan difíciles.”

It’s easy to pretend to be someone’s friend when they told the world their every thought. Stiles had pretended to be a classmate, who wanted to say goodbye to someone he held dear. Kira and Lydia had looked for every piece of information they could get on their last victim, Salvadore Garcia, via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and whatever kind of social media existed in the world. They’d found everything. The worst part had been lying to the grieving mother and fiancé. Stiles had had a hard time not telling them the truth about why they were here and what they were trying to do. He’d managed, anyway, evoking enough trust with his High School Spanish that the mother had talked to him alone about something the fiancé hadn’t known. But it had been nothing noteworthy, just that he’d had a girlfriend a couple of years before he’d met Brian. 

“Gracias. Adios,” Mrs. Garcia hugged him tightly, then closed the door.

Stiles needed a couple of minutes to recover from his lies and how they’d affected the poor woman. Theo was waiting patiently within reach but he just looked at him. Kira was waiting by the car. The two of them let him handle his feelings, which he’s grateful for. He didn’t want to be comforted for doing what he’d done. It’s a good thing Theo didn’t know how to comfort someone because any attempt would only anger Stiles. But he didn’t have time for anger. He needed to keep his head. So, he breathed in deep and closed his eyes. Just for a second. He’ done this to help people. He’d lied to and messed with the poor woman to protect other men from dying and getting their hearts ripped out of their chests to be presented and found by their loved ones.

Quietly, Stiles moved down the stairs. He passed Theo, who curled his lips into a tight line. 

Kira stepped away from the car. “Any valuable information?”

Theo came to a halt at their side. “Other than that hearing Stiles talk in a different language is very hot?”

Stiles could feel his cheeks heat up. A little bit of the weight vanished from his chest. But the mood wasn’t lightened enough to make him feel better about everything he’d done the last two hours. “Shut up.” He swatted blindly at the chimera, trying to act on the small high Theo's comment had given him. It’s gone within the second. “But no. Not really. He wanted to move in with Brian after graduating college. He had no enemies. Nothing. I don’t understand what the connection between him and the other victims is.” He ran a hand through his hair. There wasn’t a single thing that connected the victims with each other. Nothing _at all_. “You didn’t get a scent?” Stiles turned to Theo.

“Nothing.”

Stiles felt like screaming. “What are we missing?”

“Maybe something not even his mother knows about him?” Theo suggested.

“Or anybody,” Kira added.

Stiles frowned. “You mean, they might be supernatural themselves.”

Theo inclined his head ever so slightly. “It’s a possibility.” But wouldn’t he have gotten a scent then? He should have. It had been a week since Salvadore had been in his room or the house at all but _still._ Something should have lingered. And yet it hadn't. Not even the scent of the attacker. Which could be partly due to the chemicals with which the room bathroom had been cleaned. But it had _just_ been the bathroom. The rest of the house should be full of a scent, right?

Kira crossed her arms. “It could be anything, really.”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, so,” he began trying to get his thoughts in order. “You’re a 22-year-old guy, who’s got an athletic scholar ship, is captain of the basketball team, on his best way to graduate and the perfect boyfriend, whom he wanted to marry after college.” Like, that sounded really, really good. The other shoe just had to drop – although it didn’t need to be death. That’s a little overdramatic to even out the fairness. “Supernatural shenanigans aside, what would you keep a secret?” What would anybody keep a secret, even from their boyfriend? Because Brian hadn’t lied as he’d told them that Salvadore didn't have any enemies or secrets.

Theo looked at Stiles. “Anything that could cost me all of that.”

“What would that be?”  

“Drugs. Crimes.” Kira pulled a face. “Maybe he cheated on him?”

“That’s what comes to mind first,” Theo agreed but somehow, Stiles wasn’t convinced. His gut told him that there’s something else. This overkill seemed to point to something bigger. Something far worse. Not some fucking petty crimes of unfaithfulness.

“But how are we going to find that out?” Kira asked with raised brows. “Nobody’s going to taint his image after the murder.”

That’s probably true. They wouldn’t find out anything if they continued to ask around. Nobody was going to tell them the big bad secrets of a person so loved by everyone. Still, everyone had a secret – and this particular one might have gotten him killed. “I might have an idea.”

 

“You want me to do _what_?” The tiredness completely vanished from Danny's face as he stared at Stiles in utter and complete confusion. At least, he wasn’t irritated. Stiles had expected him to be slightly irritated considering that he was calling him at ass o'clock in the morning. Then again, it’s not his fault Danny had moved to London.

Stiles tried his best to look as innocent as possible. “Find out everything you can about Salvadore Garcia.” Danny's eyebrows climbed even higher. “Please?” He added in a sweet voice.  

Danny pointed at the camera. Thanks to Skype, Stiles could see the judgemental face to the voice. “No, _no._ You want me to hack into databases to illegally gather information about a dead guy.”

Lydia flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. “It can help us find whoever killed him and the other six guys.”

Jackson, who’d probably woken up by the alarm in his best friend’s voice, appeared in the doorway. “What the everlasting fuck-?” He asked closing in on the camera. His eyes locked with Lydia's, then he stared at Stiles like he’d grown a second head. “ _Stilinski_?” Danny quickly glanced at him, then looked back at the camera. Something changed in his expression, too, almost as if he was seeing Stiles for the first time now.

Stiles ignored both of them. There were more important things at stake than the few small changes in his looks, okay? “We’re missing something essential. If we don’t find the connection, there will be more deaths.”

“I can’t believe this-“ It’s hard to tell whether Danny said this in regards to the request Stiles had basically barged in with or to whatever Jackson had made him aware of.  

Lydia cut in again. “I know this is a lot to ask for but- we’re trying to save these people.” Her voice was silky smooth. She’s using the voice almost no one could resist. Stiles hated it. This particular voice had made him go out with the chic from his psychology 101 course. It had been one of her far more terrible decisions. Although she couldn't have expected that Sabrina had turned into a crazy stalker lady. He still held a small grudge against her. At least now he didn’t have to see Sabrina ever again.

Jackson propped himself up on Danny's shoulders. “What if he finds something fucked up? Maybe they deserved it.”

“Nobody deserves death,” Lydia scolded, and, in the way, Jackson looked down and away for even the smallest of seconds, the raw honesty in the movements, told Stiles more than he needs to know. The two of them were still in contact with each other. Even more so, he realised as Lydia fought a fond smile. They still cared for each other. Stiles didn’t know if he liked it. Jackson had changed in the few weeks before his departure. But he’d still treated Lydia like shit for the most part of their relationship – especially after Peter's rampage through town had begun and it got only worse after they both had been turned. And yet, here they were.

“She’s right,” Danny said destroying whatever connection Stiles had just witnessed successfully. “Listen, I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try to dig up everything I can.”

“Thanks, Danny. It means a lot.”

Danny scoffed.  “I’m only doing it because you asked and didn’t blackmail me with Derek Hale’s naked torso.”

Stiles ignored the pang of pain at the reminder of their beginning. Knowing he would never see Derek again still hurt but he’d starting to fall for someone else now. Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder in Theo's direction, who laid sprawled over one of the three beds of their motel room, eyes closed and listening to music. Then he turned back around again, fighting the small smile on his lips before he decided to let it grow into a smirk. “You liked it.”

Danny barked out a startling laugh. Loud enough to let even Jackson step back in utter bemusement. “I sure did,” he agreed with a sigh. “Call you when I find something.”

He logged off before they could say goodbye.  

 

Stiles briefly wondered how often O'Donovan met with strangers in a motel room before. He’d settled on the chair by the window like it’s the most natural thing to do. Then Stiles wondered if he were this relaxed would he know that none of the young adults he’s working with was entirely human – or if he knew how many people Theo had killed and why or that Stiles had been possessed by a sadistic fox spirit. It would be interesting to see what strangers thought about their antics, pasts, and mistakes. Maybe it’s better if nobody finds out. Maybe it’s better if O’Donovan thought they were just a group of teenagers involved with the supernatural.

Stiles turned back to the improvised white board.

“With Danny’s help we can find out why they were killed but we still don’t know what killed them,” Isaac muttered while he’s flicking through the pages of the Bestiary. His concentration had long left him, but Stiles appreciated that he’s trying.

“Something that flies,” Kira offered, who sat with Lydia in front of the laptop. They were branching out their research, but they had yet to come up with something ground-breaking.

Lydia nodded. “And doesn’t have fingerprints.”

Theo, who sat on the bed closest to Stiles, followed the movements of the pen in front of Stiles' mouth. He had never felt this studied before. But Theo had obviously made it his job to write a dissertation about the mannerisms of a wild Stiles Stilinski. “And,” Theo added finally turning away, “is still strong enough to drown athletic men and rip their hearts out through their chests.” Stiles finally gave in and bit the end of the pen in frustration.

“You kids sure don’t sound hopeful.”

Lydia chuckled. “Don’t mind us,” she said, the smile being audible in her voice. “He’s the one you need to listen to.” Stiles lowered the pen and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. But he kept his hands exactly two seconds away from his mouth before he started tapping against his lips again, this time with his index finger.

“As long as he doesn’t give up, we’ll find your killer,” Kira agreed.

Theo's eyes were palpable on the side of his face. He didn’t say anything but as Stiles chanced a glance in his direction, it’s obvious that he knew something was going on. Theo was most likely aware that this was one of Stiles’ nervous ticks after their talk in the car – the talk where Stiles had made himself promise that he wouldn’t fall in love with Theo Raeken. Well, look where was he now. He didn’t love Theo, not yet but he’s giving him a chance to make him fall in love. At least he couldn’t accidentally kill his own child and be on the other side of a wrathful something. That’s a plus for this particular relationship.

With a sigh, he dropped on the bed beside Theo. Almost immediately, everyone turned around to look at him – expecting the solution to everything. But Stiles couldn’t offer them anything. He couldn’t help saving those people. Stiles clenched his hands into fists, then his phone rang and cut through the silence. Never before had he been so grateful for an interruption. He pulled the phone out and checked the caller ID. “Yo, Danny,” he answered, already thinking what he should put in a gift basket as a thanked for saving his ass. “You’re on speaker.”

“Alright,” Danny replied tone all business. “I checked your guy out and found two things. He was busted once three years ago for underage drinking, but his coach got him out of that. Finding that file was a bitch.”

Isaac raised a finger although Danny cannot see him. “We’re here with Sheriff O'Donovan,” he pointed out.

Danny was dead silent for a few seconds. Then a loud sigh rang through the motel room. “Seriously?” He asked sounding more resigned than angry.

O'Donovan laughed. “I pretend I haven’t heard anything as long as you find what’s hurting my people.”

Again, the room was plunged into silence. Stiles could feel the pressure on his shoulders, the pressure to do something, to solve this thing. He knew it’s his case. It’s the reason they were here – and he couldn’t fail his first case. He couldn’t fail any of their cases.

Lydia closed the laptop and turned to face the room. “Brandon never drank a drop of alcohol.” It’s true. His father had died to alcoholism and everybody had told them that Brandon had despised alcohol. So, the drunk driving wasn’t going to be a link between the victims.

“And besides Thomas, nobody has been arrested,” Kira added somewhat unhelpfully.

Isaac rubbed his temples. “What else did you find?”

Danny had already waited to continue. “Your guy has been in a fatal car accident a year and a half ago.”

“I remember that,” O’Donovan said. Stiles was on the verge of snapping, reminding him that they needed _every_ bit of information no matter how random it seems. But Lydia locked eyes with him from across the room, an eyebrow quirked in warning. “He and a college friend survived. But her child didn’t make it. Neither did the driver of the second vehicle.”

Danny cleared his throat. “You need to check your pronouns, Sir.” Always polite although his tone indicated that he was disappointed in his deduction skills as a sheriff. “ _Their_ child. Salvadore and Tabitha Saenz had a child together.”

O'Donovan blinked and leaned forward. The movement was so abrupt that he almost took the coffee cup with him. “What?” There was definitely some math going on in his head. Stiles guessed the relationship from Sally and his Brian hadn't been as peachy perfect as it had seemed.

“Yes, after I managed to decode the encrypted file-“ He probably shouldn’t sound too smug about it- “I found out that he was stoned and caused the accident. I thought about crosschecking Tabitha with the other victims, but she killed herself sometime after.”

“Not everyone can stomach guilt,” Theo deadpanned. Stiles smacked him upside down the head, ignoring the smart in the palm of his hand. The rest was pointedly looking away, while Theo frowned at Stiles. O’Donovan eyed the two of them suspiciously. They’d managed to dance around each other for the most part of the research, keeping their distance just in case something was watching. Supernatural creatures and humans weren’t that different in these regards. They used what they could get – and Stiles had made sure that they had appeared as a circle of friends. Nobody was supposed to know how close they really were – and what exactly Stiles meant to Theo.

“Correct guess, stranger,” Danny said after a few moments of silence. “She left a letter behind, telling her family that she couldn’t live with what she let happen to her child – and that’s where the trail ends.”

Lydia watched as Stiles raised to his feet again. “Thank you, Danny. You helped us out a lot.”

“Don’t sweat it. If I can help, don’t ever hesitate to call me.” Danny’s words were followed by a muffled voice. Bemused, Stiles eyed the phone. Was someone talking through a goddamn pillow? “Lydia?” Danny asked after a moment sounding perfectly normal again. “Jackson wants to talk to you.”

Lydia sent a questioning look in Stiles’ direction, who first of all narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t want them to talk without him knowing where exactly they stood. But he could hardly bring that as an argument considering how little Stiles had told her about what was going in his head regarding Theo. And comparing them with each other, Jackson was the better alternative – as well as the more harmless one. He shrugged turning back around to the wall. “Alright,” Lydia said then quietly. The door falling shut indicates her departure.

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in deep. Okay. Now. Concentrate. Salvadore had crash his car, an accident because of which his kid had died. This had led to the death of Tabitha, whatever she’d meant to him. Did anyone else have something similar happen in their lives? Had they cheated? Had they been involved in anybody's death – a loved one or a stranger? Had they actively _killed_ someone? Because Sally had definitively been at fault. The other driver's death was on his hands. Or maybe it had been the car crash in itself. Maybe. Maybe. _Maybe_. There were too many possibilities, too many loose ends. Nothing seemed to make fucking sense. There was nothing-

“I think,” Stiles interrupted his own thought process, “I found our connection.” He got the pen back out of the pocket of his jeans and started marking the notes, then added the information about Salvadore. _There we go_. He found something. No. _No._ He found _it_. “All of them have caused their child’s death in some way or another,” Stiles continued as the room stayed quiet. “Sally was drunk of his ass, Thomas kicked his two sons out of the house-“ What a dick, by the way. Kicking his sons out because they hadn’t been as easy to handle as he would have liked them to be- “Brandon fell asleep, Jean didn’t know his kid was allergic to beestings and George was the lone survivor of a break-in.” He turned around, tapping his finger against one of his markings.

Kira bit her bottom lip. “Jean and George can hardly be held accountable.”

“Brandon neither,” Isaac added quietly. “It was an accident.”

Theo leaned back on his elbows, eyes still resting on Stiles. “Whatever is killing them doesn’t care. They killed their children, so they have to pay.”

It’s as simple as that. But knowing why they were killed didn't get them an inch closer to _what_ had killed them – and it’s clawing at his insides. It’s driving him insane. He just wanted to save these people; he just wanted to kill this fucking monster.

The Bestiary dropped to the floor with a thump. Isaac sighed audibly. “At least now we know who to protect.”

Stiles curled his lips into a tight line. “That does jack shit if we don’t know what to protect them _from_ ,” he snaped despite himself. Seriously, he was trying to keep his doubts inside. He didn’t mean to load them onto the pack. That’s not what an alpha did. “We’re not a single step closer to solving this fucking shit.” But he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t control his frustration and doubt, and this _fucked up_ situation.  

Kira raised a hand. “Stiles-“

“No!” He snarled, and she flinched at the sound of his voice. Guilt was immediately present, but his frustration was worse, more prominent – his frustration was getting the best of him. “This doesn’t help us. It could literally be everything.” And with everything he _meant_ everything. Even the most whimsical of creatures could be the reason for the mess this city was in. They could fight fucking fairies for all they knew. “You remember how many people died to La Bête until we figured out how to stop it?” He turned around eventually, and the pen snapped between his finger. Kira flinched. “Or how many people I-“ He choked on his words.

Theo jumped to his feet. “Stiles, hey,” he whispered, his voice so gentle he almost got through to him. But he’s too far down the rabbit hole. “Don’t do that to yourself. Not when we’re getting close.”

Stiles slapped Theo’s hand away just before he touched his shoulder. His expression was hurt and irritated, but he stepped away. It’s not exactly what Stiles wanted but what he needed; he couldn’t handle comfort right now. He couldn’t handle _anything_ right now. No. _No_. He didn’t deserve to be comforted. His failure was going to be the death of more people. He was going to fail. There would be even more blood on his hands. It’s _his_ fault. “That’s what you call close?” His voice sounded exactly the way he felt, breathless. “We’ve got _nothing_ on that thing.” He’s failing as an alpha, he’s failing as the person he’s trying to be. Why did he even _think_ this was a good idea? “It’s going to kill again right under our noses and there is nothing we can do about it, okay? _Nothing_. I should’ve never-“

Suddenly, Lydia was right in front. He hadn’t even noticed Theo stepping away, he hadn’t- he didn’t- “Hey, hey, hey- Stiles.” There were hands on his cheeks, a gentles caress. She pushed past his defences and past the barrier he kept up in these situations – almost like it’s nothing. “Look at me.” He already did but her face didn’t properly get into focus. “Remember the day I stepped on the bear trap?” Very much so. He remembered it like it had been yesterday – and it honestly didn’t help his situation; it didn’t help _at all_. The memory made everything worse. It triggered even more panic. “What did I tell you that day?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but no words left his lips. It’s just a panicked whimper. Lydia didn’t say anything, she didn’t push him. Instead, she’s just waiting there, patiently. He pressed his eyes closed, took a deep breath and tried again. “That I’m the one who always figures it out.” There, that’s better. His voice didn’t sound particularly strong but at least it worked.

Lydia nodded, a small smile playing around her lips. “And I believe that. To this day.” Something in his throat loosened. “Nothing has changed.” He could breathe properly again. “You’ll figure it out.” For a moment, he’s back in the woods, back when he stopped the bear trap from hurting Lydia. It was the first time someone aside from his father had told him how smart he was or how much he’s worth, how important he’s for the pack – how capable he’s of saving someone’s life. She had made him realise that he wasn’t as worthless and crazy as some people thought he might be. But that’s what they did; that’s how they worked. They believed in each other. Of course, Derek had shown him how viable he was, how pivotal – but Derek was a different story altogether.

O'Donovan harrumphed. “Let this old fella tell you something,” he said raising to his feet. “Losing people sucks.” Stiles grabbed Lydia’s hands and pulled them away from his face. She smiled but he was still shaking – and a part of him wanted Theo to hold him but he didn’t trust his legs to carry him that far. “It’s horrible. There is nothing that could compare to that feeling.” Stiles breathed in, then finally focused his attention fully on O’Donovan. “But giving up on finding that son of a bitch means giving up on people. If you do that, you can snap'em necks yourself. And let me tell you somethin’ else, kiddo. I talked to your dad. Them things you survived? My best men would’ve turned in their badge. None of 'em would’ve thought about sacrificing their sanity to help others. Hell, I’d have chucked my job in. But you’re not like’em normal people.” He had not a single clue _how_ right he was about that one. “You’re strong.” He was, wasn’t he? They all were. They had to be; they didn't have another fucking option. “So, get some sleep and come back stronger tomorrow. That brain of yours needs some resting.”

Stiles nodded, slowly. But, honestly, he was right – these words were exactly what Stiles had needed to hear in this very moment. It didn’t wash away the doubts, yet, but it’s something his dad would’ve said, too. And that’s what helped more than the words per se.

“We all need sleep,” Isaac agreed after a short silence.

Lydia nodded. “He’s right.”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks – and sorry for freaking out.”

O’Donovan made a dismissive gesture. “My respect you haven’t before,” he said already half out of the door. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, kids.”

Isaac shook his head at the reminder of their age. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut until lights exploded behind his lids, then pressed the balls of his hands onto them. He took a breath, deep and shaky. His body still felt weird, his legs like gum, but at least Lydia had protected him from a panic attack that would have come completely out of the left field. He hadn’t even been aware that he was about to have a breakdown until Lydia had prevented it from happening. The panic had subsided; the doubts were still gnawing. But now, he felt mostly exhausted although he was still far from falling asleep.

“Let’s grab something to eat and call it a day,” Kira suggested.

Stiles nodded slowly, massaging his temples. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the food sounded like an amazing plan.

“I’m going for a walk,” Theo announced in a way that sounded an alarm in Stiles’ head. He didn’t know why. It’s not even that Theo wanted to go for a walk. It's how he pronounced it, how he said it, cold and distant – and he didn’t even ask if Stiles wanted to come with him. _That_ ’s probably the tell-tale sign. And as Stiles turned to look at him, Theo’s expression was stony. Only his jaw was working, almost like he tried to bite back whatever else he wanted to say – and Stiles wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear what was going on in his head right now. It didn’t seem like a good place to be currently.

“Theo-“

“Don’t wait up.”

“No! Would you please tell me what the fuck is wrong all of the sudden?” Stiles demanded – so much for not making a scene in front of the pack. But he didn’t understand what had happened within the last couple of minutes that could have evoked such a reaction. Even recalling it didn’t bring any kind of solution. They had talked, found a connection, then he’d almost had a panic attack. There was _no_ reason for Theo to be pissed at all. “We wanted to talk to each other, remember?”

At first, Theo seemed surprised. Most likely not because he’d noticed the anger radiating off him. But maybe because he’d connected the dots. Maybe Theo should know that it’s not that hard to read him. After all, not a lot of things actually get to him. “Fine,” Theo snapped. Kira and Isaac took a step back at that, looking both uncomfortable as hell. “I’ll give you a piece of my mind.” Stiles stepped away from Lydia. The last thing he wanted was to talk this out here, in this very room with his friends listening but he’s scared Theo might do something stupid if he let him vent alone. “I’m not an expert on this whole _love_ thing.” He stressed the words like it’s a bug in desperate need to be crushed with a magazine. “I don’t know the rules but I’m pretty sure it helps when both at least look in the same direction.”

“ _What_?” Stiles asked drawing his eyebrows in. “I told you-“

“That we’re unbalanced, I know. But I was under the impression it’s because of who I was – not because you’re still in love with someone else.”

“I’m not in love with somebody else.”

Theo sneered. “Hard to believe.”

“He told the truth,” Isaac interrupted although, a second later, he seemed to regret that decision. Maybe it was because both Stiles and Theo sent a dirty look in his direction. But mostly for different reasons. Stiles wanted to punch him for bringing it up. Theo seemed to be unhappy about the fact that he dared to talk while they were arguing.

But then his expression changed again. It’s a smirk, this time, as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard. “It seems like Stiles is a fan of keeping secrets-.”

“Theo-“ He wanted to tell the rest of the pack. But not _now_ and not under these circumstances.

“-maybe because he perfected the art of lying.”

Stiles crossed the distance but a single look from Theo made him stop dead in his tracks. “You've never lied to me,” he said clenching his hands into fists before opening them again. He wanted to grab Theo, keep him here but he didn’t want to push something the other clearly didn’t want. “And I have been honest with you about everything – even about how I felt about Donovan.” The air around them became heavy. He’d never talked to anybody else about what had happened with Donovan, how it had happened and what he’d felt afterwards. Everyone had just assumed he’d felt devastated for causing someone’s death. “Why would I lie now?”

Theo, however, didn’t budge. “How would I know?”

“Fine,” Stiles snapped – there was so much going on, he couldn’t handle this as well. Not now. This was too much. “ _Fine._ Then please.” He gestured around the room, unable to contain his anger. But there’s also frustration and the violent urge to punch the wall. “If you want to be like that, go home.” But it’s Stiles who grabbed his backpack. It’s Stiles who’s about to make a stupid decision. “I didn’t want you here in the first place.”

And then Stiles was doing something, he’d promised himself he would never do – but he’d also promised himself not to fall in love with Theo Reaken. Look which path he had taken. Look, how great he listened to himself. But this one, this promise, he had made to his mother. Something you do when your father worked in law enforcement and the possibility of him never returning was a constant fear every day of your life.

And despite everything, despite knowing _better_ , he left.


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly. This chapter almost drove me insane. I have no idea why, tho, because I've finished writing the outline what feels like ages ago. Truth be told, it was done before I even uploaded the first part of this sequel. But, dear Lord, I couldn't get this thing written. Now, I'm finished - and actually quite happy with it. Although I've written and re-written the last few passages over a bajillion times. 
> 
> And - here it is. The conclusion to the first sequel of Justifiable. 
> 
> I hope you have fun! <3

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Stiles woke with a start. A groan escaped him as pain shot into his neck at the movement. Which came with zero surprise considering that he’d fallen asleep on the Goliath of all the books he’d gotten from the library. The internet was great and all, but nothing trumped a good old book for the best information. He’s better at writing down and remembering anyway. His concentration – or the lack thereof – fucked him over if he only ever read something. So, yeah. Books were the real deal. It would be great if they solved all of his problems. Well, when worse came to worse, he could throw the book in Theo’s face. But the guy looked pissed enough that Stiles thought about de-crowning Lydia as the most terrifying person in their pack.

“Why do you care?” Not that this particular circumstance stopped him from being an ass.

“We were worried _sick_ ,” Theo snapped crossing the room after slamming the door shut so hard it opened again. Stiles got the sneaking suspicion, someone else had come with him because the door was closed quietly – a lot gentler this time around. Theo didn’t pay any attention to that. In fact, his focus was solely on Stiles, up to a point where it’s almost uncomfortable. “You can’t just run off like that – not in a city with a supernatural serial killer.”

Stiles pressed his lips into a tight line. Part of him told him to be the adult in the situation, the responsible one. But he’s still tired and frustrated and fucking overwhelmed with everything, so Theo’s rude behaviour made him snap; inappropriately, to be fair, yet inevitable. “Who targets men who are responsible for their children’s death,” he sneered turning back to the book and his notes on the table. “I don’t need your protection.” It was a sharp jab at their fight from last night, where Theo had told him the exact same thing.

The words evoked the expected reaction. The book was pulled away from underneath his hands and thrown across the room. Stiles winced as it smacked against the wall with the beat of a drum. If someone had been asleep in the room next door – which could be a possibility taken that it’s two a.m. – they were awake now thanks to badly handled anger management issues. “You do not get to act like that,” Theo snapped yanking at the chair.

Stiles jumped to his feet narrowing his eyes. “Oh, so _I_ have to be nice after you accuse me to be in love with someone else?”

“You have to be nice after running off like an imbecile, making Lydia yell at me for twenty minutes straight and then vanishing for four hours!”

“From the two of us, _I’m_ imbecile?”

Theo bared his teeth. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“What do I care if Lydia yelled at you?” Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest. If he wanted to be petulant, he would be petulant – even if it’s the single most stupid thing he could possibly do. He’s ready to be undeterred by unfounded jealousy. He’s ready to deal with Theo lashing out at Brett and Isaac or other people he might see as a threat for whatever fucking reason. But he’s not ready for being doubted. He’s not putting up with all the trouble of having a relationship with Theo, if in the end, he’s accused of cheating on him – may it be emotionally or a physically. Because he’s _not in love with someone else_. If he were, he wouldn’t be with another person. Stiles had spent the majority of his school years being in love with Lydia. He’d spent months pining for Derek. He’d been with Malia caring for her and never had he done anything although he’d unhappy and far from in love. If he was anything during a relationship, it’s being loyal beyond a point of stupidity.

“Stiles, I was worried about you.”

“While being busy accusing me of being in love with someone else!” Stiles repeated heated.

Theo threw his hands in the air. “What was I supposed to think, huh?” _Finally_. Stiles finally got him to spill the beans. This was all he wanted. He couldn’t prevent these things from happening if Theo didn’t tell him what the fuck was going on in his head. “You push me away and a moment later Lydia-“

“Wait, you think I’m in love with Lydia?”

“Wasn’t that obvious?” He curled his hands into tight fists, irritated.

“Theo,” Stiles breathed running a hand through his hair. “Of course, I love her – she is my _best_ _friend_. She is like a sister to me.” Things had drastically changed since Junior Year. His feelings had changed, shifted, got more refined. He’s sure that it’s love he had for her, yes, but it couldn’t possibly be more platonic. They’d slept in the same fucking bed and all he’d thought was ‘ _thank god, I have her in my life_ ’. Not for a second, he’d considered to kiss her or be something else to her. She’s pack, she’s family, she’s his anchor _but_ they were as far away from romance as someone could be. “I wouldn’t be here, fighting with you about _my_ feelings if I wanted to be with someone else.” Theo’s posture changed; however, he didn’t look fully convinced yet. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do,” Theo deflected quickly.

“No, you don’t,” Stiles shot back shaking his head. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t be saying these things.”

Theo relaxed visibly. With a sigh, Stiles flopped back down onto the chair running both hands over his face. There were too many fights in too little time. He was aware that this relationship was going to be exhausting and a piece of work, but he’d really expected it to be easier in the very beginning; like, he’d thought the fights would come when they were a little more established. As it was, they hadn’t had their second date and were still clashing like nobody’s business. It’s fucking bullshit. Of course, he would fight. Of course, he wouldn’t give up on this. But sometimes he wondered if his dad’s right about his type. Maybe Stiles couldn’t have a normal relationship with a person he couldn’t fix, with a person that didn’t _need_ fixing.

“I’m sorry.” Theo dropped onto the bed farthest away from him.

Stiles let him get the distance, although he wanted to sit right at his side confirming for both of them that everything was fine now, that they’d talked about it, that the problem was cleared up for good. But he’s just as new to this relationship fighting as Theo was. It had been different with Malia – it’s impossible to put in any kind of comparison. He opened his mouth, closed it, struggled for something to say. But the words didn’t come. “Theo-“ He trailed off biting his bottom lip.

“Stiles.”

He looked up at the wrecked sound of Theo's voice. But he didn’t see him. At least not at first. Instead he saw himself crouching at the pondside. Both of his- no, not _his._ Both of _its_ arms were up to the elbows in the muddy water; the black and grey striped hoodie drenched. Dirt stuck to its cheek, half-heartedly swiped away. Or maybe it’s blood. It’s possible, too. The light was slowly dwindling. The difference was hard to make out. But it’s being pushed aside as he spotted the struggling person on its other side – he knew these jeans and the burgundy top.

 _Theo_.

Instinctively, he tried to run, to move, to help but his body didn’t listen to him. His lips were sewn shut. He couldn’t even force his fingers to loosen around the shovel he held tightly. His feet were rooted to the ground covered in leaves and soil and branches. Where did the soil even come from? There was green grass everywhere. What had happened here? Why was he carrying a shovel? Where was this pond? He hadn’t been here before. This place was completely foreign to him – nothing looked remotely familiar. Why was he here?

“Because you are a terrible alpha,” his doppelganger singsonged, still crouching beside the pond, still trying to kill Theo – who kept fighting. But he didn’t have a chance, he couldn’t get free. And Stiles couldn’t do anything to save his life. It sniggered turning around and keeping Theo down with just one hand now, like it’s nothing even though the chimera fought tooth and nail. “You’re going to get him killed. In fact, he was dead the second he set foot in this town.” Slowly, Theo stopped struggling. Stiles could feel tears sting in his eyes, as the body stopped moving fully and slumped to the floor. Motionless. _Lifeless_. “You brought him here.” It yanked Theo out of the water by his hair and dropped him, careless, like yesterday’s newspaper. “That means his death is on you, doesn’t it?”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. It’s impossible to see if Theo was still alive or not. Twilight had settled around them; fog and darkness took their place, stealing his answers, filling his inside with heavy dread. It’s not his fault. How could this be his fault? He’d asked Theo to stay home, to stay away because it is better for him – because working this case might have repercussions for his mental health. He hadn’t wanted him to come. But he couldn’t make him stay away. Or could he have?

It sniggered and wiped his cheek clean with the back of his hand. “You brought him in this town.” It nudged Theo with its foot like he’s nothing more than a worthless git sleeping of his drunkenness. “A town where something gets its revenge on men killing their children.” But Theo had never killed his kid. He’s eighteen. He didn’t even _have_ a fucking kid. Why would this thing even think about attacking any of them? But maybe- if he was wrong. If it was something else...

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat. His focus stayed on Theo, who still didn’t move, who still looked like he’s dead – and his breath caught in his throat again as panic took hold. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his reflection move. “How do I fix this?” He asked Deja vu ringing loudly in his ears. “Just tell me how to fix this.”

Breath ghosted over his cheek. “You can’t.” But the voice was off. The voice wasn’t his own anymore. It’s _Scott’s_.

Stiles’ head snapped up. Rain poured relentlessly down on him. He’s wet within a second. Scott’s looking at him, then down at his hand. Stiles followed his glance. The shovel had become a wrench. _His wrench_. There was blood sticking at one end, fresh and dripping. It’s mingling with the rain and soil on the ground. _Fresh blood_. Where did the fresh blood come from? He caught a patch of dark liquid a few centimetres in front of him and followed it with his eyes – Theo was lying at Scott’s feet, head caved in, eyes open wide and on top of Theo, equally unmoving, was Lydia. The rain hadn’t washed away the blood yet and her face was damaged beyond recognition. He only recognised her by her hair and her light blue shirtdress.

The panic didn’t come this time.

“This is a dream.”

He should’ve noticed before. After all, he’d talked to Theo in his bedroom. But when had he fallen asleep? How didn’t he notice he fell asleep?

“Then wake up,” Scott demanded. There’s something wrong about the way he looked at him, the cruel curl around his lips didn’t fit. It didn’t belong to him. “Even if you do,” he added after a short silence and pointed to the bodies at his feet. “You can’t get away from _this_.” Scott shifted again, his shape flickering, turning back into Stiles’ mirror image. This time, the smirk was far easier to handle. “We're a monster, and monsters do monstrous things.”

Stiles pressed his eyes closed. “Fuck you.”

Manic laughter followed his words, so loud his ears hurt from it. Stiles breathed in. When he opened his eyes, he was awake. When he opened his eyes, this place didn't exist anymore. His reality was somewhere else. He wouldn’t let his dreams get the best of him. Not now. Not ever again.

Stiles breathed in.

The laughter was pounding on his eardrums.

Stiles breathed out.

Then he opened his eyes. The red numbers of the alarm clock glared at him menacingly. He didn’t move, at first – and just to be sure, he closed his eyes again. The thing was, aside from the obvious, Stiles wasn’t afraid of a lot of things. Losing his family, friends and pack was way up that short list. With a little distance, he could add dolls. His grandmother’s Victorian doll collection had made sure that he was traumatised for the rest of his life by everything that looked like a sentient being. His grandfather’s mask collection had made sure that he wouldn’t leave the house on Halloween. So, yeah, the usual. But aside from that he’d grown up pretty fear free. Until the nogitsune. See, he’d never been a good sleeper. His ADHD took care of that. But there’s a difference between having trouble sleeping and trying to avoid sleep. More often than not, he’s awake until his body simply kicked his ass and he couldn’t help but fall asleep. It’s not the dreams he’s afraid of. Nightmares were horrifying – especially the things his brain cooked up – yet, it’s the waking part that scared him most. There was this nagging panic that one day, Stiles might wake up as someone else, someone who could hurt his friends. The fact that he was something else, something wrong – something that shouldn’t exist like that – didn't make the whole process easier.

Five minutes had passed as he opened his eyes again. He still felt like himself. But the fear was nagging at the back of his mind, too. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back. He doubted he’d get any more sleep tonight. At least not like that. But if he moved around now, he'd most likely wake Isaac and Theo. Maybe, if he got his phone he might be able to at least pass a little bit of time. But as his display cast its dim light, Stiles spotted a silhouette sitting at the side of his bed.

“Theo?”

Theo flinched awake so hard, Stiles felt bad for saying something in the first place. “What?” He muttered turning around and blinking against the light.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Sleeping,” Theo replied like it’s normal for people to ignore their beds when they were planning to rest.

“On the floor?”

Theo rubbed his eyes. A gesture that rendered him small and almost innocent. It warmed Stiles’ heart that, although he’d been manipulated for years, there’s still something pure left, something the Dread Doctors could never touch. Rooted and hidden, deep inside of him, was still that little boy Stiles had been friends with. For a second, he wondered, if that’s the reason Stiles was giving this relationship a chance. Because of a boy being nothing more than a shadow inside this new Theo. Stiles was worried the answer might be yes.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to-“

Stiles groaned quietly. His display shut off, drowning them in darkness again. “Moron.” Blindly, he reached for Theo in the dark. After his fingers brushed over his cheek and jaw line, he tightened his grip on his shoulders. “Come here.” He tugged on Theo, who moved immediately. Thankfully, the chimera could see in the dark way, _way_ better than Stiles ever could because he’d have totally flunked this whole thing. But Theo laid down in the open space beside him – only the breath hitting his cheek told him they were facing each other now. “I’m sorry I ran.”

Theo made a small sound, something between a scoff and a sigh. “I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

Stiles escaped a laugh, but he bit it away as he heard movement in the other bed. Right. Isaac was sleeping in their room, too. “Just-“ Stiles chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then released it with a soundless sigh- “don’t doubt me. Please, don’t ever doubt me.”

“I won't.”

Although Stiles was aware that it’s impossible, that Theo would eventually doubt his feelings for him again because of reasons he most likely didn’t understand himself, he pulled him closer for a kiss. He sunk into it burying a hand in the short strands of Theo's hair. There was something grounding in the closeness, something real. Especially as they inched closer until they were aligned from head to toe. The kiss didn’t really get heated or different from here on out; not that Stiles wouldn’t want to, but Theo was adamantly keeping the kiss slow and almost lazy. A string of small pecks rather than a make-out session – and as Stiles tried to press even closer, biting Theo’s bottom lip, hands wrapped tightly around his hips.

“No,” Theo muttered against his mouth. “Stop.” He sounded too amused for Stiles to actually give a shit about what he’d said. Anyway, it’s not like he wanted to go any further than first base; okay. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if they went to second base. But it’s not that he intended to do anything else while Isaac was sleeping approximately three meters away from them. All he wanted was to make sure that everything was fine between them – or perhaps he needed this reassurance for himself. “For fucks sake.” Theo pulled away and put a hand over Stiles’ mouth. “Sleep.”

Stiles pouted. “Spoilsport.”

“You called it reasonable.” Somehow, he got the feeling that Theo was rolling his eyes. 

Stiles poked him in the ribs. “Are you using my words against me?”

“I do.”

“That’s smart,” Stiles agreed nodding himself now, nose slightly bumping against Theo’s. “I’m always right.”

Theo snorted. “Of course.” He moved them around until he was spooning Stiles, one hand tightly pressed against his chest, right over his beating heart. Stiles wondered how often Theo still dreamed that he’s the one ripping out his heart – or if his dreams had shifted now as well. “Get some sleep,” he muttered, words ghosting over the nape of his neck. “I want you to be awake when I snap at you for Lydia yelling at me.”

“You already did that,” Stiles reminded him. Although he’s pretty hard-headed, he didn’t need to be called out for the same thing twice.

There was a short silence in the room. It felt uncomfortable. “What?” Theo asked eventually.

“When you came back-“

“You were asleep, when Isaac and I came here.” He had been _asleep_? But why would he dream about Theo yelling at him? Then again, he’d dreamt up a lot of bullshit – and the possibility of Lydia yelling at Theo after Stiles had ran away and Theo blaming him afterwards wasn’t too farfetched. Right? “Stiles-“

“Well, I know you well enough that I dream about what you do before you do it,” Stiles attempted as a joke but neither of them seemed to find it remotely funny.

Theo propped himself up behind Stiles. His eyes drilled in the side of his head – and he’s probably frowning. “You’d tell me if something weird is happening to you again, right?” There was a not so subtle hint of warning in his tone. It’s not a question, it’s a fact. There would be hell to pay if Theo found out that Stiles was keeping something from him.

“How come you can boss me around but when I tell you to watch out for yourself, you snap at me?” Stiles asked scrunching up his nose. Not that it wasn’t a-typical Theo behaviour. That guy had alpha running in his genes and a serious problem with authority. He’d be an omega all his life if Stiles’ void hadn't decided to go alpha all of the sudden.

Theo rolled onto his back. “Because I don’t look like a ghost since your void went dormant.”

Stiles turned around, huffing indignantly. “I wasn’t aware my body needed so much more care,” he muttered poking Theo in the ribs. It’s true. He’d not been human since he’d been sixteen and a half – it explained a couple of things but since his void had awoken slowly, the transition had been gradually, and he’d never really noticed any differences. But as it had gone dormant, it had taken all his advantages at once. He actually needed to learn how to human again, which wasn’t as funny as it might sound. “And I don’t look like a ghost.”

“Mason named you Stiles, the white,” Theo deadpanned.

Stiles scoffed. “This kid-“ He stopped suddenly, as things started to connect he thought wouldn’t fit together – “is a genius.” He threw the blanket off him, ignoring Theo's confused noise. “ _Oh my god_.” Isaac woke with a start as Theo switched on the light and Stiles nudged his legs a little harder than strictly necessary. “I can’t believe I missed that.”

“ _What_?” Theo asked.

Isaac grunted. “This’ll better be important.”

Stiles glanced at the clock, then got his phone from the bed. Half past six. Liam might murder him. Mason on the other hand... “La Llorona!” Stiles exclaimed while looking through his contacts. He needed to edit his speed dials. Scott’s still in there.

“ _What_?” Theo repeated.

Isaac yawned. “Can you speak in a language I understand?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. His pack was made off a bunch of philistines. “La Llorona. It’s a Mexican legend. It varies greatly but the bottom line is as following: La Llorona, the weeping woman or the woman in white, was supposedly a beautiful woman by the name of Maria. She killed her children by drowning them in order to be with the man she loves but is rejected. Unable to live with the guilt and heartbreak, she killed herself. But at the gates of Heaven, she wasn’t permitted to enter until she found her children. That’s the reason she wanders Earth.”

“Why do you know things like that?” Theo cocked his head with a frown. It’s hard to tell if he’s amazed or concerned.

Stiles waved his hand at him. “Listen, there are multiple variations of that legend. Sometimes she steals wandering children and sometimes she drives men mad or kills them _because_ , in a few lesser known variations, the husband is the one who kills the children for different reasons. So, after killing herself and being forbidden to enter Heaven, she goes vengeful and kills every man who she holds responsible for her despair.”

Isaac rubbed his eyes. People needed to stop looking so endearing while doing it. They were not puppies. “Do you have too much spare time on your hands?”

“In fact,” Stiles remarked raising a brow at him, “I did before your idiot alpha and his uncle started rampaging through the town.”

“You’re my alpha.” Isaac looked almost offended at the comment, as if it was prohibited to mention that Derek is his alpha, which was true, at least in terms of turning. Isaac was a Hale wolf whether he wanted it or not was irrelevant. Although granted, as amazing as his loyalty was, it’s considerably weird. He knew that in the end he’s making the decisions but first and foremost they were friends; first and foremost, they _should_ be friends.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Stiles cooed. Isaac narrowed his eyes at him, pouting. “Anyway,” he continued looking back at his phone in search of Mason's phone number, “It fits the profile.”

Theo ran a hand through his hair. Really, and he said Stiles looked tired. “So, we’re looking for a woman who lost her children because of her husband _and_ who killed herself.”

“Exactly.” Stiles hit the call button. It might be 5:41 on a Saturday morning but he got the feeling that Mason was not going to be too angry about being woken up for doing research. Honestly, he rather had him slightly disgruntled because of an early waking call than incredibly pissed because of being forgotten. After all, he’d promised him to let them help. It didn’t matter that this was research any of them could easily do but he’s not going to bring the wrath of a teenager upon him. Also, they could try and find out who might be next on the ghost’s list.

After the fourth ring, Mason finally picked up. “Stiles? Something up?”

“No, everything’s peachy,” he reassured opening the laptop with a sigh. “Sorry to wake you this early but we’ve kinda had a breakthrough on the case.” He could hear rustling on the other end of the call and a quiet grumbling. Right. Corey. Well, if he wanted to be part of the pack he would have to suffer through the early morning calls during missions.

Surprisingly, Mason sounded very awake when he answered, “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to find out how we can kill a ghost.” Stiles expected a lot of reactions. Stupid comments about the way he’d phrased it or the whole ghost topic in general.

He was wrong.

“Give me a couple of hours. I see what I can find.”

“Thank you.”

“ _Ghosts_ ,” Isaac muttered.

 

Liam looked as if Mason had woken him up only seconds after Stiles and he’d hung up. It wouldn’t be particularly surprising. Mason was known to be a little overeager which was as endearing as it could be annoying. Liam didn’t seem to be very happy about his best friend’s interests and willingness to help. “I can’t believe ghosts are real,” he grunted. The poor guy needed at least another litre of coffee or he’s going to fall asleep sitting upright.

Lydia stopped twirling a strand of hair. “What?”

“I can’t believe ghosts are _real_ ,” Liam repeated a little louder. Because, yes, the too low volume had been the prime problem here.

Stiles looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “How is the concept of ghosts hard to grasp for you, Mr. Howling at the Moon?”

“Oh god.” Isaac fell onto his back covering his face with his hands. “Not again.”

But Stiles, extremely tired and mildly pissed at the fact that his body was a bitch now that his void was dormant, ignored him completely. “Did you somehow forget that your best friend was turned into a medieval white guy who was also a giant murderous beast?” He pointed out. Mason winced at the reminder but, again, Stiles didn’t acknowledge him. “Or that we fought immortal science professors who somehow travelled on different frequencies and could make you forget that you ever saw them? Or that your ex-girlfriend was resurrected by that guy-“ He pointed at Theo who raised both of his hands in defence probably wondering what he’d done to be part of this list – “because of green goo that was sucked out of a guy living in a giant test tube filled with godknowswhat?”

“Okay, alright!” Liam yelled seemingly overwhelmed by the onslaught of facts – Stiles could go on for a little while longer. “Ghosts. Concept grasped.”

“Good. Then tell me what you found out.”

Liam scrunched up his nose. “Shouldn’t Lydia be able to do something?”

Although the breakthrough should make him somewhat happier, Stiles’ temper was strung to a breaking point. Seriously, he’s on the edge of punching someone; even a werewolf, even if it hurt. “Next time, I’ll call Brett,” he snaps.

Kira and Lydia exchanged a short glance. It was probably supposed to be a littler sneakier but, in the end, Stiles caught them doing it in the camera. Lydia, who couldn’t care less about being caught, locked eyes with him and threw her hair over her shoulder like in the old days. Not funny. Not in the slightest. 

Mason slapping the back of Liam’s head snapped his attention back to the jailbait part of his pack. “No, no, _no_!” He called waving his notes in front of the camera. “I found shit out. I swear. I don’t know what’s right, tho.” The last bit of information dulled his excitement a little and he scrunched up his nose studying them again. 

Theo made a face at the taste of the cheap coffee. “We’ll tell you once we succeeded.” He put his cup away after giving it one last offended glance. It’s one of the worst coffees ever made, Stiles could agree on that, but he’s too tired to pass up on any form of caffeine.

“If we succeed,” Isaac muttered. Kira threw a pillow at him.

Mason sorted through his notes. “Yeah,” he said shuffling the papers. “So, there is like three ways to banish ghosts.” 

“Which means one of them has to work.” Kira sounded confident, but her face told a completely different story. 

Isaac flicked the pillow, then hugged it to his chest. “I love your optimism,” he declared yawning. “I really do.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “It’s a nice change from your constant negativism.”

“Realism,” Isaac pointed out.

Lydia clicked her tongue. “Pessimism, sweetheart.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. It’s not that he hated it. They weren’t nice and cuddly and sweet-talked each other – unless, maybe Kira was nice and possibly cuddly. But ultimately, they were a pack made out of assholes. On any other day, he would’ve been right there with them – mocking Isaac and his tendency to see the most terribly outcome in everything. Today was not that day. Right now, all he wanted was for them to shut the fuck up so Mason could continue telling them what he’d figured out about getting rid of ghosts; he sure hoped it didn’t have anything to do with swivelling burning incense around the room.  

Mason seemed to have picked up on something because he cleared his throat. “One,” he began, and the rest of the pack turned their attention back to the matter at hand, “convince the spirit to move on.”

“ _Convince_ ,” Isaac echoed, “Are you kidding me?”

Liam pulled a face. “That’s what it says!”

“I feel like we’re long past convincing,” Stiles muttered into his coffee.

Mason shuffled his papers again. “Then you can burn the haunted object or the ghost’s remains.”

Kira made a noise causing Stiles turn around just to check if she still had colour to her face. “Did he just say remains?”

“Remains as in bones?” Isaac looked severely conflicted. It’s hard to believe they could get rattled by anything after all the shit they had seen. But even Stiles had to admit that something about burning the remains of those who’d died was something that made dread pool in his stomach.

Liam pointed at something Mason had written down. “It could be literally anything. Some people used the hair of their lost relatives for their dolls.” _Dolls._ If he had to fight against a horde of dolls he’s so going to get up and leave. Seriously, he did not sign up for that kind of bullshit. Fighting ghosts? Sure. Dolls? _Nope_.

“To iterate,” Theo concluded, “we have to find the ghost’s remains, dig them up and burn them?”

Mason sent a weak smile in the direction of the camera. “Yeah, also there was something about salt cleaning the bad away, so the ghost can pass on.” Again, he waved his notes around like that would excuse anything of the shit Stiles had just heard. Not that he doubted Mason's research skills; after all he’d helped Kira figure out how to properly read a book when her fox had been screwing with her. But that didn’t make the information any more believable. It sounded so surreal. Cleansing and burning bones. What the hell had his life come to? He’s long slipped past normal but now they were venturing on the path to insane.

Isaac threw his hands in the air as theatrically as always. “Oh, _that_ makes it better,” he exclaimed in mock-excitement. “We have to dig out a grave, season the bones and _then_ burn them.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Kira asked because Kira worried about everything, even a senior scribe.

Stiles looked at her over his shoulder, quirking a brow. “Which part exactly?” If she, who was part of the supernatural world and knew about the bizarre things they had to do in order to get rid of some of the hellish spawns, was already unsure whether what they were about to do was a good idea, Stiles wasn’t quite sure how the local sheriff was going to take it – and honestly, they had to break more than two laws to get rid of Ms. Ghost. Even his own dad was tired of bending the laws every turn he took eventually. O'Donovan was pretty new in this world. Stiles couldn’t assess how he might react. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s better he doesn’t find out. Lydia, call Danny. Then we go to O'Donovan. Isaac, Kira – organise some shovels and salts, I guess.”

Theo noticed immediately that Stiles hadn’t given him an assignment. “What about me?”

“It’s time for your Skype-therapy session,” Stiles reminded him rising to his feet. “Morrell is going to have a field day with this one.”

 

He wasn’t necessarily what people called inattentive. It’s more a distraction that kept his thoughts partly away from what Danny was telling them. This was due to Theo being a pain in his ass – or rather, this was due to Theo being dismissive every time Stiles asked him how the therapy had gone. Usually, he told him all about it. Isaac liked to call it venting because Morrell could be more exhausting than Harris on his good days. Theo’s silence could mean one of two things; the therapy sessions had gone horribly wrong or he’d gotten some sort of revelation. Both were mildly terrifying, and Stiles _hated_ that he didn’t know what the two of them had talked about. Especially since he suddenly kept it a goddamn secret. Like, what the actual fuck? What had that woman told him? Or was Theo only keeping quiet because of the fight from the day before?

Stiles bit his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinised the chimera. If Theo knew he was being watched, he didn’t show it – and it’s not like he could figure anything out with the whole pack around. Maybe he could tease out the truth when they were alone. After the case. Because they wouldn’t be alone during this mission or any mission following. It’s basically rule number one. Which Stiles had already broken twice. He’s the best role model one could wish for.

“What do you mean, you found _nothing_?” This time, Lydia was the only one sitting in front of the Skype call. After the morning assignments had been finished, Stiles and she had gone to O’Donovan to trot out a somewhat believable lie about what they had to do to get rid of the ghost. Lydia had used the banshee card, remarking that casting out a ghost was basically a Sunday morning stroll. The sheriff had seemed so relieved that Stiles had passed on correcting her.

Stiles scrunched up his face. “Well, that’s awkward.”

“Now what?” Isaac threw Kira the box of chocolate they had bought while hunting for a shovel, salt and everything else they had needed to rid the city of ghosts. She caught it with ease, eyes lighting up in the way only chocolate could make your eyes light up.

Danny sighed. “Since I found zilch, I dug a little deeper.” If you could rely on a person, it’s Danny. “Turns out, the first murder happened in 1969 but since it happened in an insane asylum nobody paid any kind of attention.” No. Nobody ever took an interest what happened in an insane asylum. Neither in the past, nor now. If people did, Eichen House would be done for. “Until the asylum was shut down, three more murders happened. Again, nobody gave a shit. Then the asylum was shut down in 1991 and the murders stopped. Until a couple months ago, apparently.” _Apparently_. Fucking hell.

Lydia rapped her nails against the wooden table. “Who committed the first murder?”

“The seventeen-year-old Anette Castello,” Danny replied immediately. “It took some serious digging to get into her file, but she claimed to have been raped, which turned out to be true because she gave birth to a little boy. The little boy was murdered in cold blood by one of the orderlies. Probably by the same one who raped her. She got her revenge, then killed herself.”

Stiles couldn’t really say that he pitied the guy. He totally deserved what he’d gotten. Seriously. He would have stood by and let her do the work, maybe he'd even helped her. “Let me guess,” he mused eventually. “She murdered three more orderlies who did the same to children of other inmates?”

Lydia looked at him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Danny agreed.

Kira had abandoned the box of chocolate. The topic had most likely ruined her appetite. Understandably. “How did she get out of the asylum?” She worried her bottom lip. “Aren’t ghosts somewhat bound to the places they were killed in?”

Stiles leaned forward, fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his sweatpants. “The older the ghost, the stronger it gets.” He nudged Theo's shoulder with his own. Theo glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, then shuffled backwards on the bed until they sat side by side. “She’d died over thirty years ago. I guess that has been enough time for her to learn how to broaden her horizon.”

Theo put a hand on his, forcing his fingers to loosen around the fabric. Lydia caught sight of the gesture. Smirking, she raised her brows, obviously satisfied that her tirade had helped mending their relationship. “Where’s the body?” Theo asked intertwining their fingers pointedly not looking at Lydia. Stiles squeezed his hand just tightly; but he felt a little better now, the stress easing away with his touch. Theo caressed the back of his hand with his thumb, drawing small circles on his skin. Now he began to understand what his father meant when he’d said: ‘Your mother could quiet every storm with a single touch.’ Ironic, somehow, given that Theo was very well known for creating his own violent storms.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” At least Danny sounded like he meant it. “Hundreds of inmates have been killed and were thrown into a mass grave. Specialist gave them individual graves years later.” Which meant they had to hope that the bones were the ones belonging to the person the grave belonged to. If not, they would have a terrible, terrible night.

Lydia curled her lips into a disgusted line.

“Oh, are you serious?” Isaac complained, probably regretting that he hadn’t followed Brett's idea and stayed home.

Theo glanced at Stiles and then back at Lydia. “Lemme get this straight,” he paused, frowning, “we have to dig out a grave, burn the remains and hope they’re the right bones?”

Lydia looked at him. “What do we do?”

Stiles could feel the eyes of the rest of the pack on him. This was one of these moments he dreaded the most. His decisions are what paved their future, what tipped the scale. He could kill all of them easily. Whether he wanted it or not, there was only one option. “We dig out her grave, burn the remains and hope they’re the right bones.”

Isaac slumped onto his back with a groan. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

 

Stiles never thought he’d say there was a creepier asylum on this very earth then Eichen. But Forest Haven Asylum was one hell of a horror movie set, if Stiles had ever seen one. Thank God, they did not have to go through the building itself and instead climbed over the rusty old fence. In that very moment, Stiles hoped his vaccination for everything was still up to date because this place looked like it would give you tetanus the moment you looked at anything the wrong way.

“Next time,” Isaac grunted from where he was standing a couple of feet inside the excavated grave, “I keep cave.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead, smearing dirt everywhere. Stiles was somewhat impressed that werewolves could sweat from physical exercise.

Theo, standing beside him in the hole, rested upon his shovel. “ _What_?” He wasn’t sweating as much as Isaac, but he didn’t look any more in shape. Obviously, digging up a grave is an effort even werewolves had to fight for. Then again, they were digging for quite some time now. Whoever had made these graves for the victims of this horror house had put up an effort.  

“Keep watch,” Stiles translated feeling useful for the first time since the two had started digging. Not that he hadn’t offered his help, but Isaac and Theo had only looked at each other – in complete agreement for what most likely had been the one and only time in their life – and told him to handle the salt. Which he did, begrudgingly, while sometimes checking in with Lydia and Kira, who kept watch close to the parking lot. As it turned out, Forest Haven was a popular meeting site for teenagers and the police checked the place regularly. It’s probably not too good if they were found here, digging up a grave, after being called in by the sheriff of the city. Although Isaac had mentioned that they should have brought a banshee until Lydia had told him, hiding her irritation underneath a sweet smile, that she would feel a ghost coming in the near vicinity. It’s true. The parking lot wasn’t the quarter of a mile away. She would know.

Theo slammed his shovel into the ground as if it personally insulted him. “Why does he talk like that?”

“He obviously rediscovered his British roots while looking for his long-lost brother,” Stiles replied glancing around the large yard. Of course, the weather decided to come up with fog and drizzle the second they started digging. It’s foggy enough that he couldn’t even see the whole yard. Who knew what’s lurking inside the wafts of mist?

Isaac pushed soil aside with his foot. “Chicks dig the accent,” he said, smirk audible in his voice. Right. Because Isaac gave a shit about what _chicks dug._

“You sound like you choke on your t's,” Theo announced. If someone was capable of holding a grudge for forever – case in point his resentment to Scott – it’s Theo. Wondering which poor kid with a Cockney accent had treaded on his toes came somewhat naturally. Not that Stiles actually wanted to know the answer to that question. There’s so much hatred and idiosyncrasy behind that pretty face that he’d need safety equipment to even breach the surface. Also, he wasn’t allowed to psychoanalyse Theo. Which was probably a good thing.  

“You know,” Isaac continued to work as if nobody had thrown an insult his way, “that void of yours would be a nice help. Pretty sure you could just order the mud to move.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Stiles replied thinking about dropping dirt on Isaac’s head. If he weren’t so eager to get the hell out of here, he’d probably do it. But he seriously wanted to get this over and done with. “Also, it's not mud. It’s soil. Mud would be wet.”

Isaac threw dirt against his legs. Stiles was pretty sure that happened on purpose. “You’re human now, right?”

“Yes.” Stiles wasn’t quite sure where this question was supposed to go. Theo, who stopped digging again to eye Isaac critically, obviously didn’t either.

“I’m just saying- if shit goes south-“ Isaac ground his heel into the ground, then slammed the shovel down in the same spot. If he hoped to hit wood now, he was bitterly disappointed. “Like, if we need some special super powers.”

“For digging out a grave?”

“No, for saving our asses. Let's imagine that ghost goes bonkers and tries to kill us all-“

Theo scoffed. “We’ve got a banshee.”

“Yeah but, if all else fails,” Isaac insisted waving a hand in Theo’s direction, who glared at him. “How'd we wake you up?” That was a _very_ good question. Records said he’s a weapon. Records said he’s a weapon shot by an alpha. Voids in his position hadn’t been very talkative about how and why they woke up – or rather, how and why they could access their power. “I mean, did Derek do anything?”

“Derek was paralyzed from his neck down in eight feet of water,” Stiles deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. There had to be a way. Somehow, he needed to find a connection to his spark so he could access his power whenever necessary – and not only kickstart it when his pack was already drowning. Also, he didn’t know whether Derek had told him to wake up or if he had done this all by his very lonesome. The letter would be far more appreciated. Not that it would help him in any way. But it’s the thought that counted. After all, that way he knew he'd be able to wake get his void moving if needed be. But, apparently, if no alpha was present, a pack could wake him. Stiles supposed it has something to do with mortal danger. It’s the supernatural world after all and there was supposed to be _balance._

Theo buried his shovel to the hilt into the soil. “Well, Derek’s gone.” The bitterness in his voice was tangible enough that even Isaac noticed they were walking on very thin ice. Theo’s jealousy wasn’t exactly unfounded, of course, because Derek was a sore topic and a very huge variable of Stiles’ personal development. But he had drawn the line under their past the moment he had left Beacon Hills, too. However, it didn’t seem to matter. Theo’s jealousy was like a volcanic eruption, deeply rooted, long building and violent. In fact, it was so firmly established inside him that Stiles sometimes wondered it might stem from insecurity. He’d never mentioned it and he probably never would.

Again, he wasn’t allowed to psychoanalyse Theo.

“Yes,” Stiles agreed, his voice loud and firm, any kind of emotion banned. “He is, in fact, gone and he won’t be coming back.” As Theo looked up at him, Stiles didn’t hesitate to lock eyes. He just wanted the message to be clear. “So, we-“ His phone suddenly started vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. It startled him enough that he almost dropped the salt, which would be severely unfortunate. The caller ID read Lydia’s name. But the sweet smile she wore on the picture wasn’t making Stiles feel good. He could feel his hopes sink to the bottom and worry gnawing at him in their place.

“Something's coming,” Lydia said the second he answers the call. _Something_ , a voice in his head echoed. Not someone.

“Stiles,” Theo called, “hold this.”

He crouched down and took the shovels from the two werewolves. It’s the moment that he noticed something odd. It’s the moment he could feel shivers run down his spine. The shovel felt weird between his fingers, a threatening weight settled upon him, pushing him down. It wrapped around him like a poisoned rope. “Lydia,” Stiles breathed as Isaac tried to break the makeshift coffin open. It didn't budge. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. “Lydia, what else.”

There’s a silence on the other end of the call. Long. Everlasting. Then, he could hear her take a shivering breath. “I think you know.”

The phone slid from between his fingers and dropped in the dirt. He’d never thought it would be possible. But right now, everything seemed to be passing in slow motion. His dream came rushing back. Himself drowning Theo. Himself saying- himself saying that- “Theo.” The word left his lips like a death rattle. He’d never felt this much like a portent of something calamitous like he did now. “Theo.” His voice was a little louder now and yet it only elicited a reaction because of supernatural hearing. They both whipped their heads around looking up at him. “ _Theo_.”

Lydia's scream cut through the evening. It seemed to come from everywhere all at once. It seemed to force itself underneath Stiles’ skin like a thousand needles. The voice in his head was back. His voice. His doppelganger’s voice. The voice he’d heard since the nogitsune had cursed through his veins. _It’s killing those who killed children_. But what were children? What’s a parent? Stiles had learned this lesson thanks to the darach. A parent was a guardian. Like an alpha – “Theo, _please_ ,” Stiles begged. “You have to leave. You have to-“

Something slammed against the side of his head. For the briefest of moments, blackness crept into his view.

As he opened his eyes, Kira was looking down at him. A sigh of relief left her lips. Her breath was visible in the cold air around them. But her expression quickly twisted again. She turned to look to her right. Someone said something or maybe they were yelling. It’s impossible to tell with all the static blocking out the noise. His head was pounding viciously. As he raised a hand to touch his temple, the tips of his fingers came back coated in dark red blood. Kira shifted her attention back to him, pale and wide-eyed. Her lips were moving but Stiles didn’t hear anything else above the noise ringing in his ears. His focus slipped, dizziness taking hold as he tried to understand what she’s trying to tell him. It took a steadying breath until he realised that she as repeating two words over and over again.

 _Wake up_.

Something stirred deep inside him.

Stiles rolled onto his stomach and forced himself to his feet. A wave of nausea hit him like a wrecking ball. He bent over, breathing in deep. Kira steadied him, but Stiles pushed her away. “Help Isaac,” he said – or he thinks he did. He could barely hear his own voice.

Kira pressed her lips into a firm line. “The salt.” Her mouth formed these words quickly. They didn’t make any sense to him until he saw the empty salt container sitting on a hill of dirt beside the grave Isaac was still fighting with. The coffin didn’t seem to open as easily as it should be.

Stiles gestured in his direction. “Cleanse the bones some other way,” he commanded, then turned to finally face what he dreaded the most. It’s Lydia’s yelling he’s hearing the whole time. She’s pleading with the ghost, hands both raised in what should come off as calming. The ghost ignored her while she struggled with Theo. The ghost who looked more alive than Stiles would have thought possible. If not for the blurs in her appearance he would have thought, they were facing off against a normal seventeen-year-old girl. A seventeen-year-old girl with supernatural strength, granted, but alive nonetheless. Theo snarled and lashed out at her. His attempts were as fruitless as Lydia's pleas.

Stiles attention was captured by the shovel. He had carried it in his dream and it had turned into the wrench he had attacked Donovan with. These hunches were always trying to tell him the solution. The cold he had felt as Liam had been attacked by the Oni, for example. So, why had he carried a shovel and his wrench in his dream? What did they have in common? What was-

Iron.

Stiles started moving immediately.

Iron was a conductor for energy. Ghosts needed energy to manifest. That’s why it was currently cold around them. Because the ghost used the energy in the air. If he used the shovel on the ghost then he might be able to save Theo, then he might be able to get rid of the ghost. Even if only for a short period of time.

As soon as Stiles was in range, he swung it. It cut through the air, and with a distorted noise that could hardly be described as a scream, the ghost vanished into nothingness. The missing impact almost sent him into yet another violent relationship with the hard ground. This time, he’d slam headfirst into the slough that most likely had been a pond once upon a time. Having a werewolf in close proximity, however, was always advantageous. Despite the beating he’d suffered from the ghost, Theo was on his feet before Stiles could fully lose his footing. He wrapped his arms securely around his waist and pulled him against him. It took a lot not to throw up right on the spot.

“I got you,” Theo whispered against the shell of his ear. His voice still sounded like someone had wrapped cotton around Stiles’ eardrum but at least he could understand something again.

“She’s still here,” Lydia reminded them.

Theo shifted his weight until Stiles leaned onto him. “How’s the coffin going?”

Kira’s head popped up. “Bad,” she announced with a frown. “I think her power keeps it closed.”

“The shovel,” Stiles muttered squeezing his eyes shut for a second, “use the fucking shovel. It’s iron.”

“Lydia-“

“Here,” she replied and helped as Theo shifted Stiles’ weight onto her. It’s almost a miracle that he did so, but then again, Lydia was the lesser risk than the ghost. She was at least not killing him and that’s probably good enough for Theo right now. As Stiles was safely manoeuvred into Lydia’s grip, Theo dashed forward. He made it half way. He’s approximately two feet away from the grave, then the ghost reappeared. She looked more pissed than ever and her gaze was locked on Stiles as she grabbed Theo by the throat like it’s nothing. With a yelp, he was smashed to the ground again.

Kira was already jumping out of the hole, her katana ready for attack.

Stiles couldn’t take the risk. If it wasn’t made out of iron, they might lose their last chance. Again, something deep inside him stirred, tried to get free. Stiles pushed it down immediately. _We’re a monster._ “Scream,” he whispered tightening his grip on Lydia. _We do monstrous things_.

“What?”

“I want you to scream.”

“Stiles, I don’t-“

“Scream. _Scream_ ,” he snapped.

“I don’t know-“

“Yes, you _do_!” Stiles’ voice cracked but he felt like he’s yelling at her, getting louder by the second. “So, _scream_!”

There was a long moment of silence. A silence that felt like forever. A silence that had Theo fighting against a ghost, fighting a fight that was pointless. Stiles could see her fingers digging in. He could see the panic in Theo’s expression, the frantic movements. Then Lydia moved. There was a shift in the atmosphere. Something changed; something changed together with Lydia. Stiles heard a sharp intake of breath, heard it catching in her throat – and then, she screamed. It cut through the air like a knife, shook bones and broke barriers. Something vibrated around them, brought movement to whatever there was.

The ghost’s head snapped up. She raised her arms with something that sounded exactly like Stiles would’ve expected a girl her age to scream. It’s a sound full of terror, full of pain, full of fear. It’s a sound that made him feel pity for her. This girl had been wronged in the worst possible ways. This girl would have needed help while she had been alive; that was what had brought her here, that’s what had pushed her over the edge. Part of him could understand her reactions, part of him could understand why she had done it. But she’d killed innocent people. And she didn’t stop.

The scream became a cry.

That’s when she vanished.

Stiles could feel her energy imploding, vanishing into void. The cold was sucked out of the air around them. Everything set into place again; everything shifted again. The stirring deep inside him stopped. The monster inside him growled, unsatisfied, but it settled, went back to rest. That’s how he knew it’s over. Obviously, when you could convince a spirit to move on, you could also force it. He’d remember to jot that down. Tomorrow. When he was more awake. When he didn’t feel like passing out. When he didn't-

His grip on Lydia slipped.

Everything around him was dark before he hits the ground.

 

Theo ventured carefully into the loft, glancing around as if he expected someone else to be here.

“Dad left ten minutes ago,” Stiles said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

There’s a small smile playing around his lips before Theo crossed the room and dropped down on the other end of the couch. Stiles looked at the space between them, then up at Theo trying not to show the confusion on his face. Since the talk with Morrell two days ago, Theo hadn’t made the first step in terms of being close – and Stiles got more and more agitated because he didn’t understand. The distance made him nervous, although there wasn’t anything wrong between them. Theo was still looking at him the same way as he had looked at him before and his jealous fit were as adamant as always. _Still_ , it bothered him to no end that his behaviour had suddenly changed.

“How's your head?”

“As if a ghost smacked me with a shovel.”

Theo’s lips twisted into something complicated. “You knew.” His voice was hard and didn’t leave any doubt.

But despite anything, Stiles played dumb. “What?”

“Don’t act like an idiot. We’re long past that,” Theo replied getting to his feet again. “You knew the ghost would go after me.” He paced in front of the couch, eyes narrowed. Stiles licked his lips watching him move. There’s something in his steps, something slow like he was stalking him, circling in and waiting for a stupid move on his part. Granted, if Stiles didn’t have a concussion, Theo would’ve already pounced on him for his moronic answer. “ _How_?”

Stiles cocked his head. “Lucky guess?”

Theo narrowed his eyes even further.

“It was a hunch-”

“You mean, it was a vision,” Theo interrupted as his patience runs out – which took him longer than Stiles had thought – and came to a stop right in front of him. “Or what was this _dream_ supposed to be?”

Stiles curled his lips, then let out a sigh. “Fine, yeah. I guess.” Theo came to a halt in front of him, obviously exasperated and seconds away from a tirade. But Stiles didn’t let it come so far. “What did Morrell say to you that made you act so distanced?”

For Theo generally being a magnificent liar, he’s the worst and most inept one when he tried to keep something from him. “The usual.” Stiles was the one narrowing his eyes now and Theo dropped on the couch beside him again. “She thinks we should not be dating yet.”

“She said _what_?”

Theo shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

“And you didn’t think about telling me that someone else told you to break up with me?”

“You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m fucking upset!”

Theo frowned. “Calm down. I’m not about to end it,” he said like it wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was. It fucking was. Because after the conversation, Theo had pulled back. Which meant he had at least _thought_ about it – and for that, Stiles would love to punch him in the throat. No Morrell. He should punch _her_ in the throat. After all, she was the one coming up with this bullshit.

“But?” He asked as Theo continued to stay silent.

“I'd understand if you thought about ending it.”

Stiles gaped at him, then grit his teeth trying his best to ignore the pounding in his head that had gotten significantly worse since the beginning of this conversation. “Because of your jealous fit?” Stiles raised his brows. “Are you mental? I knew you’d throw a temper tantrum every once in a while, and I decided to date you anyway.”

Theo’s face did something complicated. A weird mixture of smirking and frowning and everything in-between. It’s like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to this statement. “Well, normal people don’t kill someone during a temper tantrum.”

“Theo-“

“I’m working on it.”

“ _Theo-“_

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m not perfect Lydia or in-control Derek or-“

“Theo, fucking let me talk.”

Theo's mouth snapped shut. He didn’t even look angry, just a little perturbed – as if he’s thinking he’d given Stiles a terrible idea. It’s not easy, that he wouldn’t lie about. With all the things that were on his plate anyway – the job, university, the moving, being a part human, part _whatever_ alpha – building a relationship wasn’t exactly easy. It’s even worse with someone as damaged as Theo. But just because it’s complicated or bad timing, Stiles wasn’t just giving up. Not again. Not when he’s sure about it, as well as far too stubborn to admit that something he wanted wasn’t going to work out because of such things.

Stiles opened his mouth – and hesitated. What’s he going to say that he hadn’t already? What would actually change something or convince Theo, helped him to get rid of this separation anxiety? Was there even something he could say to make him feel better, to make him understand? Probably not. Probably never. This was something Theo had to learn all by his very lonesome. But Stiles could be at his side through this process. Maybe he couldn’t find the right words to do so.

But he could show him.

With a smirk, Stiles grabbed Theo by the collar and yanked him closer. A brief flicker of confusion crossed over his features. Then his eyes flicked down to his mouth and up again, pupils blown wide all of the sudden – and he understood.

Theo kissed him like he was starving, kissed him like this was all he needed to survive. His hands moved careful, as always, like Stiles was this fragile thing that would break too easily. There were moments where he hated it, there were moments where Stiles didn’t want to be seen like what he really was – a fragile human with a monster hidden underneath thin skin. Ironic, wasn’t it? How two broken boys made a whole, how to monsters kept each other grounded. Then again, maybe it wasn’t all that ironic. Maybe it was all quite logical. They knew each other’s darkest secrets. Theo _knew_ how Stiles felt about what he’d done to Donovan. Theo knew the monster Stiles tried to bury – but he understood. He knew this _thing_ inside him. And even though their monsters could be singing to each other so well, they took away the notes and lyrics; they kept them silent.

So, maybe Theo wasn’t the only one kissing him like he had been drowning for too long. Maybe Stiles kissed him back the same way. And perhaps, his father was wrong about him. Perhaps Stiles wasn’t only looking for a person he could fix. Maybe he was looking for a person who could fix him, too.


End file.
